


at ease

by lauraxtennant



Series: Nine/Rose Collection [4]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 16:09:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4712201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauraxtennant/pseuds/lauraxtennant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor reflects on his new companion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	at ease

The Doctor had been around a bit. Seen a lot, in his vast centuries. Prepared to face a multitude of challenges, him, given all he’d already endured.

He had not anticipated this.

Rose Tyler was a conundrum. She’d been on his ship barely five minutes before she was setting up home, settling herself in, setting the 34th century entertainment system in the media room to record re-runs of some ridiculous Anturion soap opera she’d quickly gotten herself addicted to.

All right, it’d been three weeks, but still. Felt like five minutes. It’d all passed in a bit of a rush, these last few weeks. To be honest, he couldn’t blame her for finding solace and relaxation in telly after the running about and swinging from chains he’d had her doing.

She was shaping up rather well, as companions went. Complained a bit, but didn’t they all - and with good reason. He’d nearly lost her several times over already, and the thought of it, having this young woman be snatched out of his life so quickly, when they’d barely gotten to know each other yet and were already so - well. Couldn’t have that.

He wasn’t a man to admit to needing people, at least not this go around. After all he’d done, to voice such a thing would feel crass and undeserving at best. Selfish and indulgent at the worse end of the spectrum.

Three weeks, though, and the prospect of a TARDIS without Rose Tyler in it was not one he wanted to think about too closely. Nor his reasoning behind shooing such thoughts away.

There were moments when he held his breath for longer than wise, though for him and his respiratory bypass, he wasn’t in too grave a danger. Those moments when she’d look at him with reproach in her eyes, in her voice; when she’d make him realise what different views they had over the morality of certain actions, certain deeds.

Other moments, too. When she’d come across something strange and fascinating to her - something alien - that was utterly the norm for him. Like the dermal regulator he’d used to patch her up in the med bay the other night. Healed her bruises quick as a flash, and she’d looked at him with those wide, curious eyes; astonished, as though he were a travelling magician.

Her astonishment at all this stuff, this unimportant, other-worldly _stuff_ \- that’d fade, though, someday. If she stayed long enough. The thought of that made him hold his breath most of all.

Three weeks in, and Rose Tyler was already sending his thoughts in all directions. Well, had done since that moment in the lift, before he’d blown her place of work up. Students - ha! He still grinned at her suggestion, even now, days later, when she had probably forgotten such a comment herself.

Bright, this one. Caring, too - and that was a trait about her which, if he were honest, scared him down to his sturdy black boots. She cared about everyone they came into contact with, and if that wasn’t enough to make him worry about potentially being the cause, somewhere down the line, of her disillusionment - the dulling of the compassion she currently bestowed so effortlessly - then the way she was with _him_ certainly was. What business was it of some nineteen year old human girl to give a Raskpillion bat about him?

Too good, this one, to look at him like that and link her arm through his and say things like, “there’s me.” Too young, too naive, to know what it would mean to feel deeply about someone who’d done the things he’d done.

Too stubborn to give a toss.

She’d dragged him in here, tonight - the TARDIS library - to keep her company while she read before bed. He’d usually give her this time alone, content himself with tinkering under the console whilst she sat about in her pjs, whiling the night away doing whatever it was humans did, until her eyelids drooped.

It was uncomfortable to realise, upon sitting with her on the sofa in front of the fireplace, that he’d been longing for this invitation since that very first night she’d curled up with a blanket and picked out her seat in here.

Rose Tyler, of course, had no knowledge of his somewhat introspective ponderings. He could tell that just with a glance in her direction. Completely focussed on her book, was Rose, and he briefly wondered why she’d asked him to stay in here with her if she wasn’t even gonna let him talk. He’d tried, five minutes ago, with the conversation thing - small-talk wasn’t exactly his speciality, but he’d got the hang of it where she was concerned. Or so he’d thought. She’d _shushed_ him. Him! 

His prompt rebuttal that it was his library and he could talk in it if he wished was met with a far too adorable for her own good scowl. His lips quirked up at the corners. It was a bit boring, sitting here aimlessly, but he rejected the notion of grabbing a book himself. Far more appealing was the idea of pestering her until she told him what the purpose of him being here in the first place was.

“Rose.”

“Mmm?”

“What’s your book about, then?”

“Hmm?” She looked at him across the sofa, frowned, then shifted her legs a bit, getting more comfy. “Stuff,” she answered absently, not really paying him much attention.

“You all right?”

She sighed, and looked at him again. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Usually full of chatter, you are.”

“Tired, that’s all. Just want to read for a bit before sleep.”

“Why not do that in your own bed?”

“‘Cos I like reading in front of the fire.” She smiled, then, a shy thing he wasn’t accustomed to. Her grins were usually full of mirth, or joy, or cheek. “Was never into reading as a kid, really, but for some reason I loved the idea of a place like this - probably got it from watching _Beauty and the Beast,_ or something. You know, sitting by the fire…bookshelves with those sliding ladders…all that fairytale stuff.” She looked about the room as she said it, her smile widening, growing into something he’d become well-acquainted with. “It’s amazing in here. So cosy.”

He raised his eyebrows at that. “Cosy? This room is enormous. There are thousands of books in here - ” He paused, watching her shrug.

“I dunno.” She snuggled into her blanket, but let her book fall to the wayside, turning to face him properly. “Still feels cosy. Sort of…safe.” She laughed. “That probably sounds daft.”

The Doctor swallowed against an inexplicable lump in his throat. “No. No, that doesn’t sound daft, actually.” They looked at each other quietly for a few moments, and then he ventured, “Do you like it?”

“Just said so, didn’t I?” she laughed.

“No, I mean - do you like it, here. Living on the TARDIS.” His hearts were beating far too quickly and he acknowledged to himself the importance that lay in her answer. “Travelling with me.”

Rose knelt on the sofa and shuffled over to him. He held his breath.

Nudging him with her elbow as she sat right beside him, she said, “Doctor. This whole thing - the TARDIS, the planets, the people…you.” She smiled, shaking her head. “You’ve no idea how bloody surreal this all is. How completely fantastic.” She nudged him again, and this time, she followed it up by sliding her arm under his, gripping the cuff of his jacket, fingers crinkling the leather. “Good answer?” she asked, watching his arm as he relaxed, before turning her mischievous eyes to his.

He didn’t say anything for a minute; her confidence, and her grasp, faltered. Couldn’t have that. Couldn’t have one iota of doubt in this wonderful human’s mind.

He nodded, and let out the breath he’d been holding. “Yep.”

He rather fancied that their grins, when they came upon their faces, matched like mirror images, in that moment.

(He rather fancied a lot of things, or a lot of things that made up one thing, but that, that was something to ponder at a later date. Or, more appropriately, never - but he wasn’t that good a liar, not even to himself.)

She stretched her arm out across the sofa to retrieve her book, then curled her legs underneath her as she propped it open in her lap. Her hand, the one on his forearm, loosened its grip, but before she could move it away, he deftly entwined their fingers. For half a second, she stiffened in surprise, but didn’t look at him. Didn’t make a thing of it. Relaxed, and let it happen. The Doctor bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself smiling like a fool again.

So quick to give affection, this one, and so quick to accept it, where desired. On the face of it, Rose Tyler was not a conundrum at all. Heart on her sleeve, probably; how on earth Rickey the Idiot hadn’t valued that better was anyone’s guess. But - three weeks. Three weeks in. Was she like this with everyone?

Her head tilted, and came to rest against his shoulder. He supposed they had been through a lot together, even in so short a time-frame. Ghosts that weren’t ghosts, explosions in Downing Street, a couple of deaths witnessed. He swallowed hard at the thought. Stuff to bond over, all that, especially facing death themselves, together. Holding hands.

He looked at their clasped fingers.

“If you want to go tinker, you can,” she murmured, through a yawn. “Sorry. Just…feels nice, you know? Sitting in a room with someone, even in silence, just knowing that they’re there, yeah? Can tell you’re bored stiff, though.” She let out a giggle, and looked up at him. “So you can go. I’ll set you free,” she teased, eyes twinkling again.

“Nah, you’re all right,” he said, leaning over the arm of the sofa to grab any old book from the pile haphazardly stacked there. He gave it a cursory glance, then smiled. Dickens. Perfect. “I’ll amuse myself with _A Tale of Two Cities_ seeing as you’ve shut your gob for five minutes.”

“Oi, watch it,” she said, smiling as she turned back to her book, tilting her head against him once more. “You’ve gotta be careful, you know. Might start making insults myself.”

“Pfft, as if you don’t already,” he muttered, shaking the book open with his free hand.

Three weeks in, and there they sat, comfortably quiet, cosy and safe, holding hands.

His better side rejected the whole idea of it; shouldn’t get too close, too attached. Wasn’t fair on either of them.

Still, given that it wasn’t in his nature, these days, to let people into his home let alone his heart, it was probably too late for worrying about all that. He’d let her sneak her way in there quite quickly, quite without realising. 

Anyway. Maybe she wouldn’t stay long. Maybe this was just a quiet, momentary reprieve.

He heard a soft snore and looked down in alarm to find Rose Tyler fast asleep. She was drooling, too. Looked utterly comfy, curled up with him like this, falling asleep on him, without a care in the world. He grinned.

So maybe not.


End file.
